Moving from one intersection to another, Chris went about his morning inspections with more hurry than usual. Long years spent working alongside his father had ingrained the need to be thorough when doing such things. It was why he found himself struggling to not go back and check everything a second time.

Strictly speaking, he shouldn't be doing any of this. He knew next to nothing about food packaging and delivery. He was more familiar with the logistics that dealt with bricks, wood, cement, and anything that could be used in a workshop or construction site. Luckily for him, no one else in the square seemed to know either.

He marched down a shallow hill and braced himself for the acrid stench drifting from the butcher’s yard up ahead. He placed it at the far end of the square for exactly this reason and only regretted being unable to put it further away. It didn't take him long to arrive at an open field filled with men huddled around a dozen or so carcasses splayed on the ground.

He strode past them calmly, meeting each man’s eyes like he would any man he saw working on one of his sites. Some greeted him warmly, others only nodded in greeting, and the rest just stared at him and spat on the ground after he’d passed. So he wasn't the most popular person. It probably had something to do with the weeks spent fueled with rage, but it could be something else. People were strange.

“Lazriel,” Chris said when he saw the man he was looking for. “How’s the operation coming along? Is that meat still giving you trouble?”

“Right, it is,” said a burly man neck deep in animal guts. “Can you believe this is the third knife I'm using today? Third, I tell you, and the sun’s barely up. It’s the same for the rest of my men. We’re going through knives faster than alcohol at a whorehouse at this rate.”

“What’s the problem?” Chris asked, looking at the dozens of blunted knives thrown in a wooden bucket.

“Take a look for yourself,” said Lazriel, gesturing at a jagged cut across a lizard-like creature's belly. “Do you see where the meat meets the skin?”

“Sure, what about it?”

“Look at this,” he said, holding his knife in a reverse grip and thrusting it into the jagged cut.

He began pulling with all his might, yet the cut barely extended as though he was slicing through wood with a bread knife. Lazriel exerted more force and his breath came in gasps as his muscles strained under the tension. Finally, he gave out with a whoosh yet the cut had barely extended past five centimeters.

“What the fuck was that?” Chris asked, looking at the creature in horror. “What the hell is that thing made of?”

“You’re asking me, but who am I to ask?” Lazriel asked, standing up with a heave and handing his knife to a man next to him. “I‘ve been trying to tell you the Blightspawn are changing. Normally, my men and I can butcher up to a dozen beasts a day, but that number has dwindled to half that.”

“When you say ‘changing’, do you mean this is an ongoing problem that’s getting worse?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the past few weeks but you were too busy stacking those damned crates all day. I don't know what’s going on here, and truthfully, I don't want to know. I’m happy to just butcher the creatures and want no trouble.”

“Uhh, right. Don't worry. Leave it to me and I’ll have this sorted out in no time,” Chris said, wondering how he would deliver on that promise. “Just do what you can for now, and I’ll figure out the rest. In the meantime, I’ve slotted you and your crew for the third shift after the midday meal.”

There was a bout of cheers at his pronouncement but he didn't stay around to hear them out. He strode out of the yard, barely noticing the easing stench as he thought of what to do about the reinforced meat. More importantly, how were the Blightspawn getting tougher? What else he’d missed out on due to his negligence over the last few weeks.

“Chris, my friend. How are you this morning?” said a velvety voice, breaking him from his reverie.

Chris looked up to see one of the ring leaders among the Outlanders waiting for him up the hill with two burly men flanking him like bodyguards. The man himself was of a slight build and an unassuming stature. Dark tousled hair framed an effeminate face, split in two by a devilish grin. Steve was the most handsome man he had ever seen and it annoyed him how squeaky clean he was when everyone else was drenched in sweat.

“Imagine my surprise when one of my men tells me they saw you being friendly with the enemy this morning,” he went on, unperturbed by his silence. “I told him ‘No, Chris would never do something so stupid. I was the one who welcomed him and showed him how things were done around here.’ but the man insisted. So I thought I’d come here and clear this whole mess up before the others take it the wrong way.”

“So you were my tour guide for a day,” Chris said with a sigh, shoving his way past him and his men. “Did you think that would earn you my undying loyalty?”

“Nothing so grand as that,” said Steve, slipping in to move in step with him. “I only expect you to remember favors and pay your dues when the time comes. Remember, I was the one who welcomed you here. Any mistakes you make will reflect badly on the Grenshaw Bloods.”

“Then you’ll have to take it up with whoever came up with those rules because I don’t remember signing up with your little band of misfits,”

“The others—”

“I couldn't care less what you and the others do,” Chris said, cutting him off. “The only reason I put up with all of you is because of your substantial workforce. Other than that, I couldn't care less what you do.”

“You’re walking a very delicate edge if you continue as you are. Your operations in the square might give you some leeway for the time being. But keep pushing the boundary like that and something will snap.”

“How poetic,” Chris said dryly, angling his way past a pair of burly men carrying a crate filled with an assortment of plants between them. “If that's all you came to tell me, then goodbye. I’m very busy. ”

“Whose fault is that? We could be having this conversation in the comfort of my tent if you'd just grab a few destitutes and let them do these inspections. Think of all the things you could do with all that free time.”

Chris was well aware of what would happen if he gave his mind a moment’s respite. Which was why he went out of his way to keep himself busy.

“It soothes my heart to hear you’re concerned about my well-being, Stevie,” Chris said, turning into an intersection. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the candidates I hear you have lined up for my ‘tutelage’.”

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“Stop calling me that! My name is Stevaniol, and it's not like that,” Steve said, flustered. “It should come as no surprise that many in the Grenshaw Bloods respect what you’ve done with the square. A few even asked for a chance to learn from you. It's in my best interest to make sure they’re ready for when the opportunity comes.”

On another day, Chris would have been impressed by the man’s daring attitude. It wasn't every day that someone tried to load a bunch of spies on you and disguised the attempt with a string of platitudes. However, he had a lot going on today and couldn't spare the time or energy to navigate the man’s slippery methods.

“I’m sure that’s all there is to it,” Chris said dryly, stopping to watch a group of women clean pink fruits and bag them into sacks for transit. “Say what you came to say and be done with it already. I don't want to give you the illusion of this being anything more than a business relationship.”

“We’ll deal with your treachery another time if you insist. As it turns out, I do have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Chris spent a few moments weighing his options. Truth be told, he wanted nothing to do with the man. He had more than enough problems as it was, but he also couldn't allow him to operate with free reign. Sighing, he made his way to a secluded area near a line of wagons and turned to face him squarely.

“Alright, you have five minutes. The bare minimum of my time. Make it count.”

“Always so serious with you,” said Steve, casually leaning on a nearby wagon. “It’s no big deal, really. I just want you to bump up all my slots by an extra hour or two. In return, I’ll increase your cut to two parts in five for everything I take in that time.”

“Not happening,” Chris said without a moment's hesitation.

“Why?” Steve asked, looking genuinely confused. “It’s not like you care for these people. Why stop me when we could both benefit from this deal?”

Chris said nothing and kept his face straight. He had been asking himself that question since the day he arrived in this place, and still had no good answers. Not ones he was ready to confront, anyway. Still, it was better to pretend like he knew what he was doing until he had something figured out.

“You know as well as I do what would happen if I gave you a second more than you are due,” Chris said, gesturing to the group of women sorting fruits. “These people work their asses off to earn those slots. I won't take them away just because you got too greedy.”

“Come now, Chris,” said Steve, an innocent smile curving his lips. “If it's security you’re worried about, I can help you with that. As a matter of fact, I’ve already picked out two of my best guys to watch your back once we settle this deal. They’ll be at your beck and call as long as our agreement stands.”

“You mean besides the agreement we have in place? You know, the one keeping everyone safe, and this whole square running smoothly.”

“That was made at a different time when we had different needs,” said Steve, moving to pace languidly before him. “In case you haven't noticed, this world is changing at a rapid rate. The Azzari might be quiet about it, but we’ve all seen the signs. They’re preparing for something. Something they don't want us knowing about.”

“And you thought you’d use this time to make your own moves,” Chris said, nodding as he finally understood the man’s past actions. “I’ve been wondering why you and your merry band started recruiting so aggressively. Now you’re stuck with all those mouths to feed and you thought what? You could just force everyone out of their slots to suit your own needs?”

“I forgot how much smarter you are than the rest of the fools I deal with around here. Some can’t even count, did you know that?” Steve said, turning to face the women. “I’ll admit, I’m not capable of doing something like this. I was always more interested in fashion and attending balls. Did you have parties where you come from?”

“What?” Chris said, frowning. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why everything, of course. Only the most prestigious individuals were invited to balls. People with great minds who have the ability to change the world. So far, you’re the only one I’ve met who stands a chance at attending one, which makes you and I equals. The rest of this lot,” he said, making a gesture that took in the entire square, “don't even have a basic education. What does it matter if we take their slots? Those resources will be wasted on them. I can make better use of them once I solidify my hold on the Grenshaw Bloods. In a few weeks, we’ll be able to handle anything these destitutes throw at us.”

Chris listened to the man’s little speech without comment and was reminded of why he was so eager to risk his life earlier. No matter what he did, the atmosphere among the Outlanders remained toxic. Maybe Zareti was right. It was time he left this place and let these people solve their own problems.

“Do you know who’s going around spreading rumors about the Azzari being savages?” Chris asked, following a nudge.

If he wasn’t watching him so closely, Chris would’ve missed the stiffening of the man's shoulders, the crease of his brow, and the tension in his stance. It was there and gone so fast, that he thought he might have imagined it.

“Who said they were rumors?” Steve said, his smile slipping back like a glove. “Look around you, Chris. How many Azzari do you see slaving among us? They make it no secret that they see us as nothing more than a disposable workforce. What else should we call them but savages?”

“That’s an interesting observation. You wanna know what else I see? I see no walls caging us in or chains keeping us shackled. You could leave any time you want yet you’ve remained here for months, maybe years.”

“What are you trying to say?” Steve said, standing upright in a pathetic display of intimidation.

“Nothing,” Chris said, turning to leave. “My answer is still no. I don't want to hear about you and your goons harassing people out of their slots. If it happens, I’ll take it personally.”

“You’ll come to regret this!” Steve shouted after him. “The Grenshaw Bloods are growing and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

Chris ignored him and fell into the folds of traffic. He picked up his pace when he saw more people trying to approach him, no doubt wanting to make the same selfish requests. God, he missed having a smartphone. Pretending to scroll through text while walking through a busy work site had always been his go-to people-repellent strategy. Now he was

At some point during his inspection, he stopped looking at what people were doing and focused on their interactions. They were huddled in groups, stepping lightly around each other, eyes narrowed and jaws tight. Nervous laughter erupted now and then, followed by forced smiles smelling of fear.

Even though hundreds of people occupied the square, an invisible barrier split them into a facsimile of a crowd. It was the sort of harmless tribalism seen whenever too many people were gathered in one place. He’d seen it at work, school, or any place with over a dozen people.

Yet the more he watched, the more it felt like witnessing the first embers of a volcano eruption. An errant spark could set the whole thing ablaze, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Azzari were too preoccupied with the Blight Gate to notice the threat and no one else was willing to step up and stop it.

The outpost was unraveling at the seams and he had no choice but to unravel with it. To run away meant leaving the only reliable food source he knew of. Those thoughts took up a portion of his mind, while a greater part reveled in the rhythm of a busy work site.

The sounds of pounding hammers mixed with the whine of grinding chains lifting heavy cargo. Shouts, cries, and the occasional bout of laughter echoed over the din, filling the air with the sound of humanity at work. The familiar tones and overtones of hard labor lulled his mind into a sense of limbo, and for a moment, his mind drifted to someplace else. A place where conversation flowed more freely and the laughter was more intimate.

Unbidden; memories he thought buried rose in his mind like a raging tide, each wave carrying remnants drenched up from the depths of his mind. The rhythmic pounding of hammers took on the tone of trowel-striking brick, mixed with the rumble of moving wheelbarrows. The scent of grilled meat wafted through the air, accompanied by jovial banter between old-timers reminiscing about the ‘good old days’.

Without warning, Bradley’s mischievous smile surfaced at the forefront of his mind like a ghost. Followed by Zinnie’s dry humor, then it was Lucas’s reprimands. The flow was unending until each crew member manifested before him in crystal clarity.

They were gone now. Stretched out across a chasm so vast, that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ would never breach it. Maybe his abduction had been for the best. Maybe they were happier without him.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a loud roar that reverberated around the square like a thunderstorm. It was followed by another, and another until the entire outpost trembled from the shockwaves. Chris took a breath and felt his world empty of everything with the exhalation. It was about time the final strand gave out.